Title: The Addams Family Meet an AlienOr How Laura Got a New DressAuthor: selenay_xCrossover: BSG/Addams Family (series)Characters in order of appearance: Pugsley, Wednesday, Fester, Laura Roslin, Gomez, Morticia, Lurch, Thing, CleopatraRating: PGSic goriamus allos subjectos nuncThanks to dixgrl78 for betaing and not going “You want to cross BSG with what??!!”

Wednesday looked up for her seated position playing with Marie Antoinette and her newly acquired beheaded doll of Anne Boleyn. She had learnt of one of their English Ancestors, Henry who managed to execute a number of his wives, most likely, as her father said, to save on alimony.

Pugsley had tried out his new experiment and was staring at the skeletal horseman in disgust. As the horseman turned its empty eye sockets toward the children and raised the scythe high in the air and prepared to charge Wednesday heard her brother’s muttered comment, “But I wanted something dangerous!” before the creature just winked out of existence.

“What are you doing.” She asked gravely.

Pugsley held up the strange looking device. “It’s a Fetcher.” He said proudly.

“What does it do?”

“Well, see the dial here?” Wednesday looked at the knob on the Fetcher that had written in Pugsley’s rather scrawled hand writing, ‘Dragons’, ‘Demons’, ‘Dangerous’, ‘Very Dangerous’ and ‘Aliens’.

“Whatcha doing?” Uncle Fester appeared at the door to the playroom.

Pugsley smiled and just said. “Look.” And dialled up a Demon.

There was a gathering of power, then a rather anti-climactic poof and a red-skinned horned creature with long pointy teeth appeared.

Fester waved happily at the demon. “Hi Screech.”

“Grrrah arrrg mmmmpj ccchare.”

“That sounds fun.”

It nodded. “Kchk fsst mhook.”

Fester beamed. “Put Screech back, he’s hunting.”

“Sure Uncle Fester.” Pugsley obliged by blinking the demon back to its hunting ground.

Fester admired the Fetcher. Then bounced up and down with glee at his thought. “Call an Alien, Pugsley.”

The Fetcher drew power again, then there was a sort of crackle and Fester was pulled to the machine as it sought a new power supply. The drain left him close to unconscious. There was an impressive light show as the Fetcher exploded into millions of tiny pieces. Emerging from the mist was a petite red-haired woman dressed in a rather threadbare suit.

“You’re not an alien.” Fester said accusingly, albeit in a weakened voice.

“Is too.”

“What happened?” the travel had left Laura disorientated, but conscious enough to spot the two children and moderate her language. Habits of a lifetime are hard to break.

“I fetched you.” Pugsley informed her with the grave simplicity children gave to pointing out the obvious to adults.

“Where am I?”

“Our home. Isn’t it lovely and gloomy?”

Laura automatically went into teacher mode. “Yes, very gloomy.”

“She doesn’t mean that silly. She means what planet are we on. Don’t you?”

Actually, Laura was wondering what kind of a chamalla induced hallucination this was, but that was close enough. “Actually, that would be nice.”

“I’m Pugsley. This is my sister Wednesday and that’s my Uncle Fester. You’re in the United States of America on a planet called Earth.”

Laura looked at the small child with pigtails and black dress clutching a headless doll, then at the pale man in some kind of weird dress/robe. Seriously, whatever Cottle had given her was mind-blowing, because how else would she come up with a room that had a bed of nails, a weird wooden device with two small holes and a larger one in the middle and a coffin with spikes? Bright side, no cylons, no opera house and most importantly no running.

Normally she would have been more circumspect, but this was a strange dream so there was no reason to dissemble. “They are artificial intelligence life forms.”

Wednesday looked confused, but Pugsley leapt right in with “Killer robots.”

“Exactly.”

“So where do you live now?”

“On a space ship.”

Both Pugsley and Fester had a boyish gleam of ‘wow’ on their faces. Which was more than a little creepy, in her opinion. What was it with boys and space ships?

From the distance she heard a man’s voice. “Where are the children Cara Mia, I thought we could go alligator fishing in the swamps.” Laura wasn’t sure what an alligator was, but looking at the room, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t like it.

A minute later two more people turned up at the door. An almost handsome man in a suit with staring eyes and a moustache and an attractive woman with long black hair and tight fitting floor length dress. How in the name of the Gods the woman managed to walk in that was beyond her. And this place was the play room?

“Oh. We have a visitor.”

Laura found herself scrutinised and automatically responded by putting on her best politician’s face.

“She’s an alien.”

“Oh dear.” The woman looked distressed, whether from having a guest or the fact she was an alien, Laura wasn’t too sure.

“Pugsley brought her here. She’s on the run from killer robots.”

Both the man and the woman looked horrified. “Killer robots.”

“And she lives on a space ship.”

“Where are my manners.” The woman halted the rush of children talking. “I’m Morticia Addams and this is my husband Gomez.”

Morticia and Gomez. Now she was beginning to doubt her state of mind.

“I’m Laura Roslin.” She extended her hand and found it enthusiastically shaken by Gomez. “Pleased to meet you.”

“So how did Pugsley bring you here?”

“I’m afraid I have no idea. I was walking down a corridor on Galactica and then suddenly I was here. With a rather loud bang.”

Gomez and Mortica turned to Pugsley.

“I was trying to bring an alien here. But it took more power than I thought.”

“You go play with the children darling and work out how to send our visitor home, and I’ll have tea with Laura while we wait.” She turned wide, almost hypnotic eyes onto Laura. “May I call you Laura?”

“Of course.”

They might be figments of her imagination, but they were polite figments, which was quite the improvement to some people on the Quorum.

“What a pity Mama is out, she would loved to have met a real live alien.” Morticia indicated the children should leave. Then as if realising what she had said, asked “You are live, aren’t you?”

There was s sudden bubble of activity as Gomez and the children left in one direction and Laura was left trailing after Morticia, admiring the fact that the woman managed to stay upright and not tread on any of the spider fronds of the dress. And managing a “Yes.” To the strange question. If she weren’t alive, how would she be walking and talking? But then again, maybe she shouldn’t enquire too deeply.

The décor further into the house was verging on the insane. A fish with a pointed nose and a man’s leg sticking out of its mouth, a peculiar clock, a wooden statue with feathers. Her subconscious was having a field day.

Morticia led her to a comfortable looking seated area with interesting wicker chairs that were surprisingly comfortable.

“Don’t worry, Gomez will work out how to get you back home.”

“I’m sure he will.” Laura truly wasn’t worried, as hallucinations go, this one was fairly pleasant.

Lurch picked that moment to arrive with a trolley. More disconcerting was the pinny with ruffles at the sides. Funny. But wrong. On too many levels. Which was also her opinion of the teapot that was oozing smoke.

“Thank you Lurch. You may go now.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuurgh.”

Humanoid Cylon that didn’t speak much. A definite plus in her opinion.

Morticia poured her a cup of the ‘tea’. In an actual china, uncracked, delicate cup, complete with saucer. She ran a finger around the rim, appreciating its wholeness. She missed that. Missed the simplicity of having a set of something, unworn, unbroken.

Watching Morticia enjoy her drink, Laura took a tentative sip. Smoke aside, it had an interesting herby flavour.

“Lovely, thank you.”

From the corner the Cylon-hybrid, no Lurch, began to play a musical instrument, in a fascinatingly delicate way.

“Aah. Thank you, Lurch. He plays well, doesn’t he?”

Laura managed to tear her attention away from the disembodied hand that was busily pouring another cup of tea for Morticia and make a nodding gesture, before turning her attention back to the hand, which was now excitedly waving at her in a friendly manner.

“Why thank you Thing. How very helpful.” Then as an aside whispered to Laura. “I think he’s being nosy. We’ve never had an alien stay to tea before.”

“How strange?” Laura gave a concerned look. “You have made me feel so welcome.”

“We have so few visitors, you have quite brightened our day.”

There was a whooping noise and the hand scuttled off back into its box.

“Mail’s in.” Morticia explained as the hand returned with a pile of envelopes.

“Bibibibibbi.”

Laura started and the tea went flying all over her already borrowed blouse and skirt. The hirsute small thing managed to look contrite through it’s fun.

“Cousin Itt! You know better than to sneak up on people.”

Laura found herself torn between ‘my clothes’ and hysterical laughter as Thing attempted to pat her dry with a cloth.

“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.” Then looked her over, noting the threadbare nature of the clothes. “Did you bring a change?”

“No that’s fine, I’ll dry out in a minute. And I’m afraid my supply of clothes is a little limited.”

“Nonsense. No guest of ours will have to walk round wet. Walk this way.”

That set off another mental set of giggles. There was no way she could ever walk like that. But she dutifully followed Morticia and Thing upstairs, idly wondering how a hand could see where it was going.

“Be a dear, Thing and get Lurch.”

Thing obligingly skipped down the stairs. In the master bedroom, Morticia opened a wardrobe to reveal a full set of dresses, almost identical to the one she was wearing. Closer inspection revealed subtle differences in the material, the patterning and the fronds. Morticia rooted around until she came up with the perfect one, in her opinion. Holding it out to Laura she ‘suggested’ the other woman change. Protesting didn’t seem to do anything as Laura was railroaded into the dressing room.

Eyeing herself in the mirror, Laura found herself ruefully shaking her head. How had this happened? Usually she was a lot more focused. But for once, in a very long time, she was relaxed. In a bizarre dream perhaps, but a relaxed dream, and that was such a huge change. Usually she couldn’t afford to go with the flow, because someone would betray her or take advantage.

Eyeing the black dress suspiciously, Laura could swear it had changed size to be the perfect fit for her. Which, when you thought about it did make sense. Now if she could work out how to get it on. Oh, an almost invisible zip. She put her clothes to one side, noting the scary looking stain the tea had caused and stepped into the dress. Checking herself in the mirror, Laura was pleased to note it did look rather good on her. Turning to pick up her folded clothes, she was unhappy to note them gone.

Deep breath. Clothes in a hallucination came and went, it wasn’t as if real material had gone. Relax and concentrate on the more immediate problem of walking. Small steps, no sliding. Go for the glide. She instructed herself, albeit unsuccessfully on the first attempt. This was going to take more than a little practicing.

Finally she made it out of the room to find Thing and Morticia waiting for her in the bedroom.

“Lurch has taken your clothes to be laundered.”

Lurch? The huge Proto-cylon had snuck in and taken clothes? Impossible. Step away from the thought, Laura.

There was only one gracious answer. “Thank you. I appreciate your hospitality.”

The house was suddenly shaken by an explosion. About to panic, explosions holding bad memories for her, Laura noticed Morticia had a strangely doting expression. “Little Wednesday is letting her caps off again.”

“Explosives?” Laura asked, half horrified, half for confirmation.

“Only small ones.” Morticia reassured.

“Well, that’s ok then.”

There was an even louder explosion that had Laura looking quizzically at Morticia. “Uncle Fester’s cannon.”

“Is he shooting at anyone in particular?”

“There’s a rather annoying hippogryph that keeps trying to steal the weather vane. Dear Uncle Fester is guarding it.”

It seemed perfectly reasonable, though why her mind was coming up with creatures she’d never heard of was a concerning issue, though not one she was prepared to contemplate at the moment. Mostly because Thing was perched on her shoulder, fingers digging deeply into the knot there.

Laura gave a contented moan.

“Thing says you are very tense.”

“No privacy, no space, three sets of clothes and hunted by Cylons will do that for a girl.” Laura wasn’t sure how a hand spoke, but was in full go with the flow mode.

Morticia nodded understandingly. “You poor dear. We must do something about that.”

Thing finished its work on her neck and shoulder then bounced off excitedly, waving as it went.

“Tea is served.” Lurch really had the most disconcerting voice, deep and rumbly.

“Wonderful. Thank you Lurch.” Morticia set off at speed, leaving Laura trailing in an ungainly fashion, but looking forward to another cup of the spicy tea.

Eventually she made it to the parlour area, having been collected by an anxious Lurch, who feared, quite rightly that she had got lost. Laura came skidding to a halt as the most enormous house plant she’d ever seen was wrapped around Morticia’s shoulders as the woman baby-talked it and fed it pieces of meat.

“There, there Cleopatra, don’t rush your food.”

As she entered the area, the plant vibrated intimidatingly at her. Centurions were threatening. Leoban would be scary on a creep level. Frak, even the Admiral had his moments. Compared to them, a plant was very low on the food chain, so Laura folded her arms and held her ground. Cleopatra, noting the stance unwrapped herself from Morticia and nuzzled against her in the manner of an affectionate daggit. Laura stroked the leaves gently and the plant made a kind of purring noise.

Laura made a mental note not to analyse this dream sequence. Everyone always said dreams had meanings and some of the more religious in the Quorum often enquired about them and attempted to interpret them. This one, she was not sharing.

Never.

Probably.

Gomez chose that second to bounce into the room carrying a small thin sword. He did a classic kind of double take.

“What do you think, Gomez?” Morticia proudly showed off Laura’s new look. “Don’t you think it gives her a certain ‘je ne sais quoi?”

“Tish. You spoke French.” Gomez dropped the rapier and leapt in his wife’s direction, taking her by the hand and kissing the inside of her wrist. Morticia responded by holding her arm imperiously out. Gomez kissed his way up her arm, across the back of her neck and was fast working his way around when he was stopped.

“Gomez. We have a guest.” He looked down hearted for a brief second, then cheered up.

“Do you fence?”

Laura was contemplating demanding the Gomez technique from a certain man that was skirting around the periphery of her life, and was happily mulling over that vision.

When the question caught her by surprise.

“Um. No.”

“Oh dear.” Gomez looked quite crestfallen.

“That’s alright, Gomez will teach you, won’t you Querido?”

“Tish, you are a genius.”

And the next thing she knew, she had a small thin sword, no a rapier in her hand and was waggling it in a rather insane way at Gomez.

From the side, Morticia offered some encouragement and advice. Actually, this was rather fun, though she suspected her main enjoyment came from the exuberant manner that Gomez threw his body around, complete with ‘en garde’ and ‘bravo’. It made for a rather unusual way to spend the morning. Maybe she should take this up when she woke up, she was sure Tyrol would be able to run up a couple of swords.

Though how Adama would take her turning his boxing ring into a fencing area was something she didn’t want to contemplate.

~#~

It wasn’t often visions, hallucinations call them what you will gave her warning they were about to end. Usually they came and went leaving her disorientated.

This one signalled its end with Pugsley bouncing in with the news that he’d upgraded his prototype. Part of her was sad the day was over, she’d been enjoying the break from the pressures of the Presidency.

Then there was an explosion of goodbyes and well wishing and a request for her to drop by whenever she wanted. Then there was a flash of light and a smoky poof and she was back….unfortunately for her, in the Galactica’s Mess Hall.

Sending a mental plea to the Gods of ‘please don’t let me have zoned out in public’, Laura noticed the entire room go silent and the crew turn to stare at her. Gods she had spaced out, how embarrassing. Then there was a wolf whistle from behind her and she heard a whispered, “The Prez looks hot.”

She looked down and realised that she was in the black dress. Which meant that the hallucination wasn’t. So she really had been with the strangest family she’d ever met. Unless this was part of the hallucination. Laura surreptitiously pinched herself. Nope. That hurt.

And if it was real, then she’d lost a whole outfit. Frak!

So she really was in Galactica’s Mess. In a low cut, full length black style evening dress. On reflection, it could have been worse, one of her nightmares back on Caprica had been wandering into a meeting naked. So this was above that on the freak out factor.

Someone had obviously put in a call to CIC because she fielded some half-hearted attempts to question her, sometimes the Teacher’s Deathglare was a positive advantage. She did contemplate leaving the room, but the fact that all eyes were on her and movement in the dress was still a little hit and miss to risk executing a dramatic flounce out made her stay put.

Best plan was to wait for the Admiral to arrive. Which he did in record time. He had to have run.

He entered the Mess scant steps ahead of Saul Tigh and a breathless Cottle. Now that really was over kill.

But it was almost worth it to see the stunned looks on their faces as they took in her appearance. Especially as she found herself mimicking Morticia’s folded arm pose.

~#~

Two Hours Earlier

“For fraks sake, how did you manage to lose the President?” Tigh might occasionally be laughed off as a drunk, but when he lost his temper it would be truly intimidating.

“I, we didn’t lose her sir.”

“No sir. One minute she was there, the next minute … poof.”

“Presidents do not poof into thin air.”

“I know Sir.”

“But she did.”

Both guards pretended not to hear the ‘Frakking woman can get into trouble anywhere’ comment.

~#~

She finally made it back to her quarters after being poked and prodded and examined until she felt like screaming. And that was before the whole interrogation. She was exhausted and the first person that said the wrong thing to her was going to be airlocked.

Loss of clothes could do that to a woman.

She was just relaxing on the bed when there was a now familiar flash of light and a rather large bag that looked if it had been made from a carpet appeared.

On its top was an envelope with an elaborate hand written address on it:

President Laura Roslin Space Ship Outer Space

That amused her. The irony of the vagueness of the address coupled with the fact that somehow it had been transported to her exact location.

Carefully opening the envelope, treasuring the feel of proper parchment paper in her hand, she read the missive.

Dear Laura

I hope this package finds its way to you safely. Lurch laundered your clothes and I wanted to return them to you.

Gomez and I were distressed to hear that you have such a limited wardrobe, so we went shopping for you. We do hope you enjoy them. Though the style is rather unappealing.

Thing’s cousin, Zinzina, has always wanted to see Outer Space, so asked if she could meet you. I do hope you can give her a good home. She’s a very well trained Lady’s Companion.

We do hope you visit again soon.

Yours truly

Morticia Addams

Opening the bag, Laura found a more delicate disembodied hand jumping up and down, waving energetically at her.

Smiling softly, Laura held her hand out to be shaken.

“Welcome to Colonial One, Zinzina.” Laura’s voice was welcoming, though it did hold a tinge of panic. “Though I really don’t know how I’m going to explain you.”

Zinzina waggled a finger at her, then scuttled out from the bag and took cover under the bed.

“Aah.” Laura nodded approvingly.

Then turned her attention to the clothes in the bag.

First out were her freshly laundered skirt and blouse. She put them away carefully, helped by Zinzina. This could work out nicely.

Then she turned her attention to the rest of the bag, unpacking slowly, almost reverently. Three blouses, one blue, one green and one pale lilac. Two skirts, three pairs of trousers. A pair of shoes. A pair of boots. Some slip-ons for just mooching.

And stockings and underwear. New panties and bras. It was like Solstice all over.

As she made little exclamations over each new item, like a kid in a candy shop, Zinzina was massaging her shoulders gently. Laura gave a sigh of happiness.